


Ooh Love, ooh Loverboy...

by nastally



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Freddie's costumes, Gift Fic, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastally/pseuds/nastally
Summary: It's ridiculous.Because it takes his breath away, when he sees him.Just like that. Completely, genuinely.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 20
Kudos: 44





	Ooh Love, ooh Loverboy...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trixie_b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixie_b/gifts).



> This little ficlet is for the wonderful, kind, talented Trixie B and I very much hope that she likes it. She requested something Froger based on the angel wing outfit Freddie wore at Queen's show at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1975, on Christmas Eve. It turned out insanely fluffy. So there you go!
> 
> Freddie started the show looking like this:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/49729024557/)
> 
> And ended it looking like this:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/49728177588/in/photostream/)
> 
> Roger, meanwhile, ended the show looking like this, heh:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/49728725776/in/photostream/)
> 
> Enjoy the sweetness!

\- * -

It's ridiculous. 

Because he's seen Freddie in satin and glitter and skintight silk, get ups which in all honesty hardly pass for an outfit and which no one, but absolutely no one, should have any business pulling off. Except Freddie, of course. 

It's just one of his many talents.

And fuck, he's seen Freddie naked. Many times. Certainly more than he can count, at any rate. He's intimately familiar with every curve, every nook, every line of his body. And yet...

And yet.

It's Christmas Eve. That doesn't have much to do with anything, of course. Except perhaps it does. There's excitement in the air. Perhaps - Roger thinks - perhaps it's a little bit of that. The buzz of Christmas Eve, the anticipation of something magical and wonderful, ingrained in them all, and the excitement before a show, melding into one. Giving him heart palpitations as if he were a schoolboy, seeing his date for the school dance all dolled up.

It's ridiculous. 

Because it takes his breath away, when he sees him.  
Just like that. Completely, genuinely.

White satin. Angel wings. There is always something about the contrast of Freddie's olive skin and pure, shining white. Freddie knows this, too. It's always black or white, with him. The duality of the man captured in his fashion choices. Freddie the demonic angel. Freddie the saintly, outrageous tease. But this...

Roger stares, because it's all he can do. They're not alone in the dressing room, after all. He half wishes he hadn't gone out for a fag, because maybe, just maybe, seeing Freddie put it on would have taken away some of the magic.

Or perhaps not.

Christ, it must be Christmas Eve. He's never this sentimental, usually.

It's just that Freddie looks divine. Honest to God out of this world. 

And he doesn't know it. That is the thing which makes it more beautiful, somehow, because there he stands, tugging at the short angel-wing jacket, turning this way and that, admiring in front of the mirror how the costume hugs his lithe body as if he'd been poured into it, and still Roger doesn't think that he truly has any idea how breathtakingly beautiful and otherworldly he looks.   
He can see Freddie's eyes catch on the short-comings he perceives, pursing his lips a little awkwardly, raising his chin, brushing strands of hair into place over and over again.

Roger glanced around briefly. Deaky is leafing through a magazine and Brian is entering full focus mode, solemnly staring into the glass of water in his hand. 

Eyes returning to the vision in white, Roger comes up behind him and watches him until Freddie meets his eyes in the mirror. 

"I'll be good to go in just a minute," he tells him, straightening his back and tilting his chin up, turning his face this way and that before he bends down again and reaches for the powder brush, a hint of self-consciousness in his laugh, "Don't rush me, darling, perfection takes time." 

"You _are_ perfect." 

Roger hears himself say the words with such sincerity that it makes his cheeks glow warm, and still he can't - frankly, doesn't want to - look away. 

Freddie pauses and catches his eye in the mirror again. A slow flick of the brush over his cheek. And then he laughs, laughs it off, loud and over the top, and turns around to dab at Roger's nose with the brush, too. 

"We all are, dearie! Just look at us!" 

"Pride comes before the fall," Deaky mutters with a smirk, from behind his magazine. 

"Shush," chides Freddie absently, already having returned his attention to the mirror, "if I fall in these shoes I'll break an ankle, and whatever will the lot of you do then?" 

Only half-listening to their banter, Roger returns to his own mirror and ruffles his hair. Although his eyes can't help but wander back to Freddie's reflection, a fond smile on his lips. 

Of all the things Freddie's chosen name means, to him and to the world, he has never looked more like the messenger of the Gods. 

As they walk out on stage not much later, Roger half expects Freddie's feet to leave the ground when he begins to sing.

He expects to see him float right off into the heavens, piano and all. And it wouldn't seem strange. Because Freddie belongs among the stars.

It is later, much later, when they are finally alone, but not so late that the adrenaline of a great show isn't still coursing through his veins like a pleasant afterglow. 

Freddie isn't wearing his original stage outfit anymore, the whole angel ensemble barely made it to mid-show. He's sweaty and barefoot, hair a frizzy mess, wearing the tiny shorts and loose shirt he wore for the encore. Roger has lost his own shirt along the way and the braces are starting to chafe a little on his bare skin. Even though he's ditched the clown wig, they both look a bit ridiculous now, away from the stage lights. 

And yet, Roger still can't take his eyes off the raven-haired man.

The corridor isn't private, but it's private enough. It's private enough to catch Freddie's hand in his and pull him close, wrap his arms around him even as he hesitates, throws careful glances both ways, before breaking into a grin that is so kissable Roger cannot resist it. 

"What was that for?" he asks, _purrs_ , when they break apart, looking into each other's eyes. And then he laughs, after a moment, when Roger can do nothing but stare at him, completely rapt. "What is it, dear? Cat got your tongue?"

"I just..." What is the point of trying to speak if words won't come? "You." 

"Me?" Freddie raises an eyebrow, squirms coquettishly. 

"You," Roger repeats earnestly. The grin falters. And he kisses him again, with all the love, awe and admiration he feels for him, in that moment. And always. Freddie's eyes are dark when he pulls away, gleaming with something that is as vulnerable as it is strong. 

"Do you love me?" he whispers, wrapping his arms around Roger's neck. And he plays it off as flirting, the way he often does, but Roger knows it isn't. He knows a part of Freddie is always terrified that, one day, the answer might be no. His eyes fear it and the hesitant touch of his hands - ready to pull away in an instant - expects it. 

Roger wants him to know that it isn't possible. That he can't fathom how he could _ever_ not love Freddie. But he doesn't know how to say that and make him believe it, too. Nevertheless, he tries. 

"Always," he utters quietly, and the spark of happiness in Freddie's eyes as he smiles brightly, unguarded, warms Roger's heart and makes it beat faster. 

"Rog..."

"I'll love you always."

\- * -

**Author's Note:**

> Now, Trixie, I know you mentioned another outfit too and that is still coming up in chapter two... and might be a bit less innocent. ;)


End file.
